outh of some stream, while Miss
Trevor talked. She was almost a child in her eagerness to amuse me with
the happenings since my departure. This was always her manner with me,
in curious contrast to her habit of fencing and playing with words when
in company. Presently she burst out:
"Mr. Crocker, why is it that you avoid Miss Thorn? I was talking of you
to her only to-day, and she says you go miles out of your way to get out
of speaking to her; that you seemed to like her quite well at first. She
couldn't understand the change."
"Did she say that?" I exclaimed.
"Indeed, she did; and I have noticed it, too. I saw you leave before
coffee more than once when she was here. I don't believe you know what a
fine girl she is."
"Why, then, does she accept and return the attentions of the Celebrity?"
I inquired, with a touch of acidity. "She knows what he is as well, if
not better, than you or I. I own I can't understand it," I said, the
subject getting ahead of me. "I believe she is in love with him."
Miss Trevor began to laugh; quietly at first, and, as her merriment
increased, heartily.
"Shouldn't we be getting back?" I asked, looking at my watch. "It lacks
but half an hour of dinner."
"Please don't be angry, Mr. Crocker," she pleaded. "I really couldn't
help laughing."
"I was unaware I had said anything funny, Miss Trevor," I replied.
"Of course you didn't," she said more soberly; "that is, you didn't
intend to. But the very notion of Miss Thorn in love with the Celebrity
is funny."
"Evidence is stronger than argument," said I. "And now she has even
convicted herself."
I started to paddle homeward, rather furiously, and my companion said
nothing until we came in sight of the inn. As the canoe glided into the
smooth surface behind the breakwater, she broke the silence.
"I heard you went fishing the other day," said she.
"Yes."
"And the judge told me about a big bass you hooked, and how you played
him longer than was necessary for the mere fun of the thing."
"Yes."
"Perhaps you will find in the feeling that prompted you to do that a clue
to the character of our sex."
CHAPTER X
Mr. Cooke had had a sloop yacht built at Far Harbor, the completion of
which had been delayed, and which was but just delivered. She was,
painted white, with brass fittings, and under her stern, in big, black
letters, was the word Maria, intended as a surprise and delicate conjugal
compliment to Mrs. Cooke.
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